Fallout: Vault 186
by Gune
Summary: Beneath the irradiated land of the once great nation of America one bunker community has defied all odds and maintained their secluded society for the better part of two hundred years. But with tensions building and lines being drawn between new factions, how much longer can the peace be upheld? Can the vault dwellers survive or will they be the harbingers of their own destruction?
1. Prologue

_Hope…hope always remains._

 _We've been killing each other since the dawn of our species. Tribes vying for power as civilizations rose and fell. Entire nations wiped from the face of the earth for worshipping a different god than their neighbors. As time progressed we developed more efficient ways to annihilate one another until finally…we accomplished our subconscious mission in a blaze of nuclear fire. But not all was destroyed. Our civilized way of life was preserved as citizens were selected to reside in underground bunkers…known as_ Vaults _. These underground_ Vault Dwellers _combined their ingenuity and burrowed deep into the Earth, creating subterranean kingdoms._

 _And yet human nature will never change._

 _Tribalism is an innate human instinct that drives us to separate from one another. Opposing ideals, values, and religions will forever divide humanity. It was there, two hundred years after the bombs fell, beneath the irradiated sands of our scorched Earth, amidst a divided subterranean kingdom, where certain ideals were forged into the heart of one individual who would one day unite a fractured people against yet another threat of annihilation. After generations below ground, the_ Vault Dweller _emerged from the depths…of_ Vault 186 _._

 **FALLOUT**

 **Vault 186**

 **Prologue**

Above ground, crumbled and scattered across the Earth were the remnants of a long forgotten school. A place of learning and hope for the future now served as one of many countless examples of humanity's inability to maintain peace. Deep beneath the toxic surface another example pulsed with activity. A shinning display of technological wonders frozen from the year 2077; the year technological advancement ended. At least, major instances of technological advancement were halted. Necessity and human ingenuity together will almost always produce convenient and sometimes lifesaving innovations. The Vault was an interactive community; an enormous ant-hive designed to house a large human population. In its infancy, the underground bunker town boasted nearly five hundred American citizens.

Slowly, over the course of two centuries, a vibrant society numbering just over five thousand citizens bristled with activity beneath the stone and sands of a lost nation. No longer were they citizens of America; that country no longer existed. They were residents of the vault and their society, their civilization, was their own.

At the head of that society sat an individual entrusted with not just the safety and wellbeing of each and every one of the vault's citizens, but with aiding in the direction each individual took towards the betterment of their society. It was his responsibility to oversee the advancement of each young mind and guide them through their developing years, extending that guidance to the parents of those young minds just as his predecessor did for him. It was fitting then that those who held his position were named the Overseer of the vault.

Miguel Suarez, Overseer of Vault 186, leaned forward in his seat, letting his hands rest upon the flat platform of the round, crescent moon shaped terminal that served as the base of operations for his office. Miguel was far along in his years with a dark brown complexion and grayish white hair that extended halfway down the back of his neck. His face harbored a subtle amount of wrinkles for his age and was slightly elongated with puffy cheeks, ending with a square chin. His forehead was small but not abnormally so and his green eyes sank more deeply than most into their sockets which gave the aging community leader a natural appearance of solemn compassion.

Miguel gazed into the monitors lining his terminal with a furrowed brow. Another round of protests were in full swing at a dozen locations scattered throughout the vault. It had all happened so fast or at least that is how it seemed. In truth, Miguel could see the small changes in the populace. Unfortunately he didn't give the situation the attention it deserved. Foolishly, he viewed the growing tensions with the same level of passive concern he gave to the mishaps every advanced society eventually endured. However, small feuds between religious and political groups were quickly overshadowed by the growing desire of almost a quarter of the population; the outside world.

Vault 186 was unique in the fact that digitized status reports were sent directly to the main terminal of the Overseer. Status reports containing all information on every vault created before the war that ended one world and birthed many new worlds above and below ground. Miguel, like his predecessors was at first disgusted by the wealth of knowledge granted to him. While each vault did indeed save its inhabitants from the nuclear fallout of the war, it appeared as if the majority, if not all of the bunkers were designed to house inhumane and horrific social experiments with the inhabitants being the guinea pigs.

Miguel could only assume that the release of this knowledge to each leader of Vault 186 was in fact another social experiment of some kind. While the progenitor and purpose of these experiments eluded the aging leader, he couldn't help but wonder if the decision to restrict this knowledge to none but the Overseer was in fact a contributing factor to the situation that had erupted into a near catastrophe. Could this rebellion have been averted if the first Overseer fully disclosed this information? Miguel had to shake the thought away. How could it? Would it not have further inflamed the desire for life outside of the vault? Or maybe it would have fostered a more concrete relationship of trust between the populace and its leaders, making the seemingly impossible task set before him a bit more plausible.

" _Sir? Sir, we're awaiting your orders_." A voice Miguel recognized as the commanding officer for security, Mathew Ford, crackled from an intercom built into his terminal desk.

"Standby until I arrive, Captain." Miguel said after pressing a small red button next to the intercom and leaning forward to better project his voice towards the device. Several technicians and Captain Ford himself had informed the old man that he would still be perfectly heard without his face being less than a few inches from the intercom but Miguel was firmly set in his ways like most people his age.

" _The crowds' getting restless, sir. It won't be long until they're tearing down the doors._ " Mathew said with his professionalism keeping the building panic in his chest from reaching his voice.

"I'll be down within the half-hour." Miguel said with his own practiced professionalism.

Forty minutes later, Captain Mathew Ford of the Vault 186 security police force found himself surrounded by a mob of protesting citizens. Flanked by only four of his men, two to his left and right, armed with black batons and N99 10mm pistols, weapons originally manufactured for use by the various police forces during the pre-war era, Mathew held his left hand out and gestured for his men to keep back. Each officer held their batons at the ready, all of them reluctant to raise the weapons in a threatening manner in the face of an already infuriated group of men and women.

Mathew swallowed hard, feeling the growing tension closing in on him and his men. He tugged at the black t-shirt beneath his utility jumpsuit and for a moment was struck by the almost laughable irony of the situation. In front of him stood a sea of angry protesters all dressed in the same clothing as himself, dark blue leather jumpsuits with stripes of gold running up the zipper from the waist and around the neck just beneath the large collars. Black gauntlets encircled their wrists and forearms and large black boots covered their feet. Mathew himself and his men in addition wore pre-war riot gear –black Kevlar vests, black helmets with large clear visors, and black leather gloves– over their suits.

Much of Mathew's features were hidden beneath his clothing but the stressed Guard Captain held hope that the crowd could be reasoned with. With a light click, Mathew raised the visor shielding his face and let his sky-blue eyes meet the eyes of his fellow vault dwellers that stood shouting in front of him. The elevated plastic shield revealed a handsome man with a slightly pale complexion a squarish chin and low cheekbones. Several strands from his short black hair were matted to his forehead by sweat born from the heated situation erupting in front of him.

 _Where was the Overseer?_ Mathew's level of frustration grew every time the question echoed inside of his mind. He glanced back at one of the men on his left whose hand had more than once hovered close to the holstered pistol on his hip.

"Keep it together, Connolly." Mathew said with as much reassurance in his voice as he could muster.

James Connolly, a young twenty-something year old man of African and Irish decent with somewhat large eyes, high cheekbones, and a slanted jawline that ended at a slightly pointed chin, twitched at the sound of Ford's voice. His eyes met the Captain's for a second before his gaze shifted back to the crowd.

"Why are they doing this?" James asked with genuine confusion. "Do they really think fucking with the vaults water is going to solve all of their problems?"

"Just keep your head." Mathew ordered.

"Yeah if there's going to be an incident we need to make sure they take the first swing." One of the guards to the right of Ford said.

"There isn't going to be any incident, Hsu." Mathew said sternly. "These people are our neighbors, our family. There isn't going to be any violence."

"Why don't you try telling _them_ that?" Dennis Hsu shot back, his small black eyes continuously scanning the crowd for any signs of weapons. Although Dennis was a bit skinnier and shorter than his fellow guards and his face was round with thin eyebrows and puffy cheeks, beneath his uniform his body was a toned masterpiece.

Mathew could tell his men were becoming restless. Too much time had passed and the crowd had realized that no other security guards were coming. The Captain had suspected that was their play all along. Twelve other locations had been accosted by the separatist group; each one hit ten minutes after the other. The security force harbored just under fifty officers so it was obvious that these protests were a coordinated effort. The plan to split Mathew's forces was obvious but the Guard Captain couldn't figure out what the protesters' end game was. The vault door was locked and only the Overseer could open it. Did they plan on storming his office and demanding they be let out? Or worse still, could shutting down the water really be their goal? The thought sickened Mathew. Didn't they know that everyone was needed in order to keep the vault running? Not just the essential systems but the community itself? Mathew was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly jumped at the sound of another security guard, this one behind the crowd, shouting orders.

"Out of the way." A redheaded female security guard yelled above the screams of the crowd.

A few of the shouting mob fell silent and while most of the crowd continued protesting, a path was made for the new arrivals. Flanked by two security officers, Miguel made his way through the parting crowd towards the entrance to the water purification lab. The old Overseer received several jeers and profanity ridden remarks from many of the people he passed. As Miguel reached Mathew and the rest of his officers he turned to face the mob, taking in a deep breath before speaking. The old man was never one for speeches but realized that if what he was about to do did not end the rebellion, nothing would. The female officer positioned a black handheld radio near his mouth and depressed the call button so the Overseer's voice could be heard at every location the separatists were protesting.

"For two hundred years…our community has existed below the broken streets of our lost nation." Miguel said, letting his empathetic gaze meet the angered glares of his people.

Slowly, the crowds scattered across the vault grew silent as their protested leader spoke.

"Our ancestors, our families were the fortunate few selected by Vault-Tec and the government to be spared the nuclear devastation that rained down from above. Since then we have created a vast nation continuing a tradition of human cooperation and innovation that once gave birth to a world superpower whose reach spanned the globe. We were once a meager group of five hundred individuals confused and frightened. Terrified at the prospect of living beneath hundreds of tons of rock and steel and yet, we persevered. We survived."

"That time has passed, Suarez!" A male voice echoed from the crowd.

"You can't keep us locked down here! We want our freedom!" A woman added, eliciting several cheers of agreement.

"In the past…" Miguel continued, letting the jeers bounce off of his resolve. "I attempted to and succeeded in quelling your protests, believing in arrogance that it was my right and responsibility as Overseer to protect you all from yourselves and more importantly, the dangers above ground. I spun tales of vague mystery, inciting fear in your hearts as children and curbing your growing yearning and wonder for the outside world. But now you have all grown into capable and courageous adults who no longer feel the need for the protection of an old man."

"So now I will no longer presume to tell you what it is you should strive towards with your own lives. I will simply tell you the truth; a truth that has been hidden from you, your parents, and their parents all the way back to the day when the first members of this community set foot inside the vault."

Miguel produced a silver square shaped device from the right cargo pocket of his jumpsuit and held it up in view of the crowd.

"This holodisk contains all of the information from a data folder stored in the main terminal of my office. On it is detailed information concerning hundreds of other vaults constructed throughout the land. There is…information that all of you will find to be very disturbing…some horrific. From what I could gather, almost all of the vaults were programmed with special protocols, carrying out inhumane social experiments on the inhabitants." Miguel continued and did not give pause at the several gasps and murmurs from the crowd.

"To my knowledge no one but the previous Overseers have known this information. The password for the folder was given to the first Overseer and programmed by the creator of this vault to delete itself once used for the first time. That password was passed on to me by my predecessor. I know this revelation has most likely only strengthened your desire to leave but before you do…there was information from one vault in particular that I must share with you now because I cannot let you leave without knowing what it is you will face on the surface."

"Nearly one hundred years ago on the other side of the continent a man exited his vault in search of a replacement water chip. When he reported back to his Overseer all of the recorded information was uploaded to my terminal. Before the war, the United States government created a virus called F.E.V. that mutates any living organism it comes into contact with. Everything from insects to animals were warped into gigantic bloodthirsty monstrosities…including humans. A being known as "The Master" created an army of super mutants; men and women dipped into vat containers filled with the virus. The land has been ravaged and all but a few vaults still send data bursts to my terminal. The only reports of any real civilization have come from what was once known as California and Nevada. Everywhere else, as far as I can tell, is inhabited by these fearsome creatures and large tribal gangs known as raiders who rape and pillage their way through any and all civilized communities."

Stunned expressions covered everyone surrounding the Overseer, including Mathew and his officers. Miguel made no attempt to hide the shame weighing down on his heart.

"How could you keep this from us?" One woman in the crowd shouted.

"Just because you're our leader it doesn't give you the right!" A man growled.

"How can we hope to live in a world like that?" Another woman groaned.

"Don't listen to him! It's all just a lie to keep us down here!" Another man warned.

At that last accusation, Miguel, who had lowered his head in shame, looked up in the direction of the voice.

"I can assure you that I am not lying." The Overseer said with a new found determination. "We are not just a community. We are not just family. We are one of the last, if not _the_ last symbol of what the people of this lost nation were capable of. Not just the good, but the evil as well. The communities inhabiting the other vaults ate themselves, some literally so. But we…we have existed here in relative peace...in harmony for nearly three centuries while the world above has continued to decay. Before our time, when America still existed my ancestors sailed to these lands in search of a better quality of life. For a time, they found it. In every generation there has always been the promise of a better land; a better home. But when the apocalypse wiped out life as our ancestors knew it they did not carry their hopes of a better land down here with them. They brought their ideals and hopes that we, their descendants would know a life of peace. We have found that peace. We have created our own world down here. No other vault has grown as large as we have. No other vault has made as many innovations in technology as we have. No other vault community has prospered as much as we have!"

Miguel's words began to elicit nods and cheers of approval.

"Historians, philosophers, and scholars have always debated the reasons why kingdoms and governments fall. They blamed marauders. They blamed dictators. They blamed wars. They studied past civilizations trying desperately to discover the exact moment the breakdown happened. Well I say the answer is and has always been the most basic. It was when a government decided that it can make the decisions for the lives of its people that that government doomed itself! It was when the people of a nation facing a crisis realized their governments were more concerned with the wellbeing of its king, or prime minister, or its president than the wellbeing of its citizens that those nations sowed the seeds of their own destruction."

"My predecessors were mistaken when they chose to follow the directive set forth by the architect of our vault and I…have come to realize that I shared in their mistake. As your leader I have treated you all as if it were your duty to follow my directives. It is not. It is in fact _my_ duty to serve you and ensure that all of your needs and desires are met, even if I disagree with those desires. No… _especially_ if I disagree. It is my duty to accept all points of view because I am not an all knowing deity. I am flesh and blood just like the rest of you. This holodisk will be made available to all who wish to transfer its contents to their Pip Boys as well as any further updates concerning the outside world. It is my duty to guide you, not control you. I will leave the decisions concerning what you wish to do with your lives up to you. That means from this day forth the G.O.A.T. evaluations will only be used as a base reference, not a mandatory work placement program. You all have my humblest of apologies for continuing the sins of my predecessors. I can only hope that you will decide to give our community one last opportunity to thrive, for if too many of you leave...it will be near impossible for those of us who remain to maintain the civilization we have worked so hard to build. But we will persevere because we are citizens of Vault 186 and for us _nothing_ is impossible!"

Miguel handed the holodisk to Mathew and then clasped his hands behind his back while gazing out at the crowd.

The Guard Captain stared in awe at what had just transpired. The thick tension that once felt as if it would choke the life out of him had slowly dissipated and was now replaced with loud cheers of pride and joy. Mathew watched as the Overseer slowly began to make his way back through the crowd the same way he entered; with his body slightly hunched over and his eyes glued to the floor. The symbolic stride of a humble old man and yet Mathew couldn't help but stare at the vault leader as if he could move mountains with a simple thought.

The revelations the Overseer had just revealed shocked Mathew to his core, as he was sure was the same for every other vault dweller. He had experienced the same wave of emotions as his fellow citizens; shock, curiosity, fear, anger, sadness, and even a bit of excitement. Yet at that moment he also felt one last emotion as his vision centered on the golden 186 on the back of the Overseers standard issue vault jumpsuit, a large measure of respect for the old man. It took a lot of guts for a leader to reveal that he had been withholding such a significant truth from his people for so long and even more guts to do it face to face. Thoughts of scouting the world outside of the vault had crossed Mathew's mind enough times that he seriously considered joining the separatists if they ever secured the ability to leave. If only to see what was out there. If only to see if the outside world could offer a more enjoyable life for his daughter. However, at that moment Mathew had no intentions of leaving and judging by the loud cheers of admiration and friendly pats on the back and shoulders the Overseer received from the pacified mob, neither did they. Several status reports detailing the ending protests began flooding in from the radio unit attached to Mathew's utility belt.

"Roger that." Mathew said into his radio with a smile on his face. "All units stand down."


	2. Happy Birthday

**Chapter One: Happy Birthday**

Katherine Ford; a slim sixteen year old brunette with thin cheeks covering high cheekbones, a small mouth with thin lips, and large eyes that harbored ebony pupils, exited a large classroom that served as the local high school for the upper east bloc of Vault 186. A quick glance at the somewhat large metal device referred to as a personal information processor –or Pip-Boy for short– that was strapped around her forearm revealed that it was already three-o-five in the afternoon.

"I'm late." Katherine groaned.

Professor Henderson had run his lecture forty-five minutes past the normal dismissal hour, which was a normal occurrence in his classroom on Fridays but it was Thursday, and he had then droned on for another fifteen minutes about the importance of history and education in a cruel and twisted act of retaliation after receiving more than a few sighs and groans of frustration from several students, Katherine included. Each second was torture and Katherine had felt as if her eyes had been stuck in some kind of suspended animation; glued to the ceiling from constantly rolling at each of the professor's quips about history repeating itself. He was one of the first to jump at the new source of information about the outside world from the Overseer and couldn't wait to bore Katherine and her fellow students to death with parallels between the Great War and the conflicts between the new factions that had arisen above ground. It wasn't that Katherine wasn't normally a good student because she was…sort of. And she really was interested in the outside world.

 _Maybe a little interested…kind of._ She thought while waving goodbye to a few of her friends.

The professor had chosen a very inconvenient time to change up his routine. At that very moment, a birthday party was being held for a very special person in her life. Worst of all, the most important gift that would be given to the birthday boy was going to be given by her, only she wasn't there to give it. Katherine hoped that his parents wouldn't unveil the gift without her even though she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if they did.

Vault 186 harbored a massive network of grayish, stonewalled tunnels that would, to an outsider, be on par with the ancient labyrinths of Greek legends. Metal shafts, panels, and guardrails were fused and bolted into the stone along with square and circular shaped vents, which allowed the Vault's life support system to operate. Between the metal and machinery were hundreds of different colored lights attached along the walls and ceiling. Some were used for illuminating the halls and others to signify restricted areas or when needed, flash bright red, signaling an emergency. Large rectangular Plexiglas windows that allowed passersby a small glimpse into the many apartments, offices, and workshops scattered throughout the Vault lined the walls between the panels.

Another left turn and Katherine had almost reached her destination. There were three residential areas in the Vault, each harboring around seventeen-hundred citizens. The upper east bloc was notorious among most other Vault Dwellers due to its awkward design. Being the first area of the Vault its citizens excavated for expansion, most of the different rooms, laboratories, and stations, including the apartments had been constructed as needed, which meant almost everything was randomly placed throughout the bloc. Whereas every other bloc harbored a set area for apartments and work stations, the homes of the upper east were clumsily scattered around work stations and storage rooms. Several petitions for remodeling and relocations were presented to the Overseers of past generations but the requests were always voted down by the majority of the residents whose families had felt strong sentimental ties to their homes.

Katherine had more than once considered asking her father to submit another petition but always decided against it although the thought had crossed her mind again just before she finally arrived at her destination. Katherine reached out and knocked on a large gray metal door with a yellow stripe painted down the center. A few moments later the door split at the bottom with a snap hiss; the top and bottom portions of the barrier vanishing into their stone cradles.

All eyes inside the small living space centered onto the new arrival. Katherine chose not to let her embarrassment steal away her ability to walk and instead stepped into the residence with a confident stride. Realizing nothing interesting was going to happen at the moment was enough for all but one of the young preteens attending the party to ignore the new arrival.

"Katie!" The honored guest of the party; a short, twelve year old, slightly scrawny boy with a dark caramel complexion, hazel colored eyes, and black fuzzy hair said with a wide grin. His round face beamed at the sight of Katherine.

"Derek!" Katherine matched the boy's smile with one of her own and knelt down, catching him in a tight embrace after he ran over to her. "How's my little brother?" She asked. "You enjoying the party?"

"I am now." Derek Thomas replied. "Now that I can finally open my presents. What took you so long?"

"Not my fault." Katherine said defensively. "Professor Henderson wouldn't shut up about the new information from the Overseer."

Derek gave Katherine an accusatory glare after they released each other from the hug. "What, you couldn't sneak out?"

Katherine rose to her feet , giving Derek an unamused glare while resting her hands on her hips. "Really?" She said with a chastising tone.

"What?" Derek asked with faux confusion. "You know he never notices anything when he starts rambling."

"I think he would have noticed the loud hiss from the classroom door opening in the middle of his speech, Derek." Katherine countered.

"Says the big sister unwilling to risk capture in order to make it to her favorite brother's birthday party on time." Derek said with folded arms.

"Oh shut up." Katherine smiled. "Let's get your presents."

All of the children and few parents who volunteered to help supervise the event gathered behind Derek who was making no attempt to hide his growing impatience.

"Go on; take your time, sis. Not like I haven't already waited long enough." Derek jeered.

"Derek." A woman standing in front of the stack of wrapped gifts, Derek's mother, Rachel Thomas, said with an authoritative tone. "I've already told you about that attitude of yours and being nice to company."

Derek frowned at the floor at the few snickers elicited from his mother's words.

"Yeah, buddy." Steven Thomas, Derek's father added. "Don't make your mom take away all your presents." He warned with a sly smirk. "Cause you know she will."

"Not this one, I hope." Katherine said through a slightly restrained giggle of her own.

Derek's eyes lit up at the sight of the large square shaped box wrapped in sky-blue wrapping paper. His hands shot out and snatched the box from Katherine and savagely tore the container apart. While every other gift would be a genuine surprise, everyone already knew what was inside the box, including Derek. However, knowing what the gift was did nothing to dampen the boy's excitement. Inside the box were two items. The first was a long, dark blue fingerless glove with blackened knuckles. A small, almost diamond shaped metal platform with a black dial constructed into the center was fashioned on the top of the glove. The second item, which Derek greedily clutched with both hands, was a standard issue Robco Pip-Boy 3000; a powerful rectangular shaped minicomputer with a variety of functions; data collection and storage being chief among them. The metal boarders of the device were also a dark blue and surrounded a black LCD screen. Three red buttons that read stats, items, and data from left to right were positioned beneath the screen. A Geiger counter sat at the top left of the device. Below the radiation meter a dial that spun vertically was built into the device on the immediate left of the screen. One final spinning adjuster sat near the bottom left corner.

Derek pulled the glove over his left hand then slid the Pip-Boy on next and attached a small connecting cord from the bulky device to the port on the glove platform. The Pip-Boy screen lit up with a steady scroll of readouts in bright green text. After about one minute of loading, the display screen blipped and an image of a blonde man with cartoonish features dressed in a Vault 186 jumpsuit appeared on the screen encircled by various status bars that appeared to indicate the current health and condition of Derek's body and limbs. The young Vault Dweller cycled through several of the Pip-Boy's screens, experimenting with the different nobs and buttons. When he pressed the button marked "Data" his eyes lit up at the radio option on the screen. A few clicks from the bottom left nob and the room was suddenly filled with a mature, charismatic voice.

" _This is, Vault Boy Five-Thousand, and you've been listening to the pre-war eras greatest hits._ " The man said with genuine enthusiasm. " _We're halfway in to the hour that takes us back to the sounds and vocals that inspired our ancestors and kept the mood for makin' babies alive. Remember, next up we got our very own Karen Shaw ready to lay down her hit singles;_ Your Love is Like a Cave-in _and_ These Stone Walls _comin' up at the top of the hour but right now sit back, put your arm around that special someone, and enjoy the smooth vibes of this romantic classic from_ The Penguins. _We've got so much music here at_ 186 Vibes _even I haven't heard it all so remember to send in those requests after sifting through the historical database and never forget; music is medicine for the soul, ooow!"_

Seconds later, soothing slow dance music began flowing from Derek's Pip-Boy speakers.

" _Earth Angel, Earth Angel…will you be mine? My darling dear love you all the time."_

Katherine smiled while watching Derek fiddle with his new toy. A toy that would one day become an essential part of the boy's life in the Vault. She noticed as if on cue, when the music began filling the room, Derek's eyes locked onto one of his party guests; a young girl with long black hair slightly puffy cheeks with small dimples and bright blue eyes. The girl gazed back at Derek and smiled.

"Go on." Katherine nudged Derek. "This song isn't that long so you better ask her now before you're out of time."

A wide smile spread across Katherine's face as she watched Derek dance with the girl. What was her name again? Jessica. That was it. A giggle almost escaped Katherine as Derek's parents joined in on the festivities and began dancing a few feet from their son. Katherine felt a warm sensation spread through her chest as she enjoyed watching the heartwarming moment. Derek deserved it or at least she thought so. While he wasn't Katherine's biological brother, the two had bonded many years ago when she was eight and he was four. Derek, being one of the rare shut-ins and slightly anti-social residents of the Vault never really connected with the other children. It was when Katherine had verbally defended him from a few bullies that she realized he was more of an old soul than awkward like most believed. The friendship was a natural development and somewhere along the way, Katherine couldn't really remember when, they began referring to each other as brother and sister. Now she was watching her little brother grow up and she didn't want to miss any of it.

" _I'm just a fool…a fool in love…with yo–"_

A low rumbling vibrated through the room sending tingles through the feet and legs of the partygoers. Katherine held in a gasp and glanced around with confusion covering her face. The song was cut off and replaced by static for several unnerving seconds before continuing.

"What was that?" Katherine asked no one in particular.

Another rumble and this time the radio host's voice replaced the music.

" _Standby folks. We seem to be having some techni –_ " The host's voice was cut short.

The lights inside the living area of the residence gave an electrical whine as they dimmed and flickered just before a loud thunderous sound boomed from what seemed like all directions. Many children in the room began screaming while ducking down and covering their heads. Some merely whimpered and tears began streaming down the faces of others.

A quick glance at Derek's Pip-Boy revealed it was still functioning normally so Katherine knew that whatever had happened had something to do with the Vault.

Derek's parents gave each other a knowing look before turning towards the exit to their residence.

"It's the main sector reactor hub." Steven said while walking towards the exit.

"But how?" Rachel asked, following a step behind her husband. "There haven't even been any irregular spikes for the last two months."

"We won't know till we get there." Steven replied.

"Mom, Dad, what's going on?" Derek asked while running after his parents.

"Stay here, Derek." Steven ordered. "Katherine…" He began to ask but could see she already knew what his request would be.

"I'll look after him until you get back." Katherine said with a nod.

"I don't need to be looked after." Derek protested. "I need to know what's happening!"

The door to the residence opened more slowly than usual as the time between the rumbling -which was becoming more violent every minute- started getting shorter and shorter. Steven turned to the crowd of children and few adults who were all on the brink of frenzied panic.

"Everyone stay here and try to remain calm." Steven said.

"Stay here?" One of the adults, Phillip Turner, shouted while pulling one of the children behind him as he approached the exit. "I've got to make sure the rest of my family is OK!"

"I understand that, Phil, but right now it's too dangerous to travel the halls." Steven said with a hand raised towards the fearful man gesturing for him to get down.

"Why?" Carol Summers, the only other adult at the party asked in frustration.

"Because if this is the main hub of reactors like we think it is then there are going to be power surges." Rachel explained.

"So what?" Phillip challenged.

Steven began growing impatient. He didn't want to waste time explaining things to a panicked room when he needed to be at the reactor trying to solve whatever problem had arisen.

"There are hundreds of maintenance consoles and wiring covered by metal panels in every hallway. A power surge may cause some of them to short out or explode." Steven said with an authoritative tone.

As if on cue, one of the panels just outside the residence exploded from one side of the hallway to the other in a blaze of bright sparks and electricity.

"You need to stay here, stay down, and keep an eye on the kids. Got it?" Steven commanded.

With that both Steven and Rachel left their home without waiting for an answer from the other two adults. Derek started to follow after them but a raised hand from Katherine halted his advance towards the door, which was now stuck halfway open after another round of rumbling saw several sparks burst from the metal barrier.

"Bro, if there was one day you ever planned on actually listening to your parents, today's the day." Katherine said after restraining Derek with both arms.

"But…!" Derek began but was cut short from another violent rumble that threw everyone to the floor.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Steven and Rachel Thomas found themselves surrounded by a chaotic scene inside the main power generation station for the upper east bloc of Vault 186. The station was a massive collection of grated metal floors lined with guardrails. Four colossal reactors were spread evenly throughout the station. The power generators were square in shape with round corners that harbored four gigantic coiled spikes that would normally emit a low hum from stable energy coursing through them. Sitting along the center of the back wall was the main supercomputer used to control the input-output levels of the generators. Low wisps from the cooling fans inside the device and a few random beeps were usually all of the noises generated by the computer. As Steven and Rachel rushed over to the control center, the device was blaring with emergency alarms and flashing with red and yellow warning lights.

"What the hell happened?" Steven shouted at one of the panicked technicians gazing out in horror at the machine.

"I don't know!" The technician admitted. Both of his hands were clasped to the sides of his shaking head. "I can't make sense of it. One minute everything was fine and then the next we had an irregular power spike; a fucking massive one and now…" He couldn't continue.

"Now what?" Rachel demanded.

"Now…" The technician began backing away from the computer, the red emergency lights gave his terrified expression a haunting glow. "Oh no…"

Steven stepped over to the technician and glanced at what had struck fear into the man's heart. Upon seeing what his coworker had seen his eyes widened in horror as well.

"Holy…" Steven began but his fear and disbelief didn't allow him to finish his sentence.

"Steve? What is it?" Rachel asked.

Steven only gave his wife a brief glance before turning to the nearest generator and gazing up at the four coils. Bright blue electric currents surged violently through the spiraled metal, some shooting up into the steel pipes lining the ceiling causing steam to shoot out into the air. The rumbling began again with more intensity than before and with little time to think or react, Steven turned his gaze to the frenzied maintenance staff members who were darting back and forth through the station trying to power down the reactors.

"Everyone get out of here!" Steven took Rachel's hand in a tight grip. "Now!"

The rumbling knocked several members of the staff onto the ground. A few who took hold of the guardrails for support were launched into the air and covered in grotesque burns from electrical explosions that erupted throughout the station.

Steven made his way across the grated platform, running faster than he had ever run while pulling his terrified wife behind him. Both of their eyes were locked on the exit, which was about forty feet away. Steven felt hope building in his chest; the growing anticipation of his desired escape from the chaos exploding around him. Two other fleeing technicians, Mark Davidson and Janice Sanford, had made it through the exit and Steven was determined to follow their lead. Whatever was happening was no longer important. The only thing that mattered was the safety of his wife and child and he only needed to make it a few more steps before that goal would be attainable.

Unfortunately, neither Steven nor Rachel were allowed another step before one of the generators erupted into a deadly combination of fire and electricity. The explosion brought the ceiling crashing down onto the screaming maintenance staff who were already being cooked alive from the electrical fires of the blast. Steven's gaze never left the tunnel outside of the station as the fires consumed him and his wife and they were buried beneath the falling rock and metal.

At once, all of the lights, laboratories, and work stations in the upper east bloc of the Vault shut down. Many of the lights had simply exploded from the power surges leading up to the blast and the two small backup generators roughly a quarter mile away from the main station had overloaded and shut down as well. Although the maintenance crew of the backup hub had been spared a similar fate to their counterparts present in the main station, they were no less panicked than their fellow Vault Dwellers from the events of that day.

Almost an hour later the scene outside of the main station was one of bleak confusion and fear. Seven members of the security police force, including Captain Ford, were standing between a crowd of horrified Vault Dwellers and the inaccessible power station that was now blocked by fallen debris that had spilled out into the hallway from the force of the blast. Lights from several Pip-Boys were the only things illuminating the hall.

"Everyone please remain calm." Mathew said with a raised voice.

The security Captain realized the futility of his request but tried his best to follow his own advice. The crowd of civilians was on edge and nothing was going to calm them down. Sometimes chaos just simply had to run its course. Exhaustion would eventually overtake the fear and with exhaustion came a natural calm that voices of reason could penetrate.

"All of the power is gone." A man Mathew recognized as Phillip Turner screamed. "The water purification lab…the life support systems…all of it has shut down! We're going to die!"

"If the life support was off we'd have all suffocated by now." Mathew countered with a calm but stern tone.

"Then why is it so cold, huh?" Phillip shot back.

"He's right. It's freezing!" Another member of the crowd added.

"Everyone please." One of the only two surviving technicians, Mark Davidson pleaded. "Please listen to the captain. We are not going to suffocate. The Vault has three other main power stations and several small backups. Our lights and systems were all routed to the main and backup hubs of this bloc and it's going to take time to reroute things so we have our lights and heat back online. Air is still being circulated from the other blocs and all of the other water stations are still operational so we are all going to be fine."

"What do you know?" Another angered man from the crowd shouted. "It's your incompetence that caused this in the first place! All of you fucking techies!"

"Let's not start flinging baseless accusations." Mathew said while Mark only lowered his head with a defeated sigh.

"There's nothing baseless about it!" The same angered man continued. "It was Steven's fault! He was the head technician responsible for the station and look at what he let happen! The coward wasn't even there when the place blew! I heard the irresponsible prick took time off for some birthday party!"

Angered murmurs began circulating through the crowd until a young voice cut through the chatter like a gunshot.

"Hey!" Derek bellowed through burning tears. "My dad _was_ there you idiot! He was trying to stop whatever was happening!"

"A lot of good he did." The man would not back down.

Mathew was trying his best to locate the individual who was needlessly inciting the crowd into another angered mob. On the one hand, Mathew could understand that the man was scared and angry, looking for anything or anyone to blame for the current situation. But no one needed that at the moment. What they needed was reassurance that those trusted with the safety and continued operation of the Vault were doing everything they could to ensure just that. Unfortunately the limited visibility granted from the Pip-Boy lights were making things very difficult.

"Why don't you back off?" Katherine demanded while placing her hands protectively onto Derek's shoulders. "He's just lost both of his parents for God's sake."

"Well maybe they shouldn't have been assigned to the damn power station when they were too stupid to keep the thing from exploding!" The man growled.

"You motherfucker!" Derek tore himself free from Katherine's grip and charged full force into the man, tackling him to the ground.

Mathew couldn't contain the panic in his heart when he heard his daughter's voice amongst the crowd. He began shoving his way through the already parting group of civilians at the sound of the scuffle taking place. When he finally reached the center of the crowd what he saw infuriated him beyond words.

While the initial surprise of his attack had allowed Derek to bring the much older, taller, and stronger man to the ground, the man had quickly recovered and was now holding the boy down with one hand around his throat.

"I'm gonna give you the beating your father deserves!" The man barked.

"Get off of him!" Katherine shrieked while grabbing the man from behind.

Katherine's plan was to pull the man off and run but she instead received a backhanded punch to her left cheek and stumbled with a yelp of pain. A few members of the crowd had already begun advancing on the situation. Even those who misguidedly agreed with the man, mostly due to their own fear and confusion, were unwilling to let him harm an innocent minor.

None of them made it to the man before Mathew had leapt towards him and pinned him to the ground, repeatedly slamming his fist into the man's face.

"You fucking bastard!" Mathew roared.

It took two of his fellow officers to pull Mathew off of the man and he managed one final kick to the agitator's hip before he was dragged out of reach. But that didn't stop him from screaming.

"If you ever touch my daughter again I'll kill you!" Mathew threatened. "You hear me you piece of shit? I'll fucking kill you!"

"Boss, get a hold of yourself." Dennis Hsu said while struggling to hold back his superior officer.

One full minute passed before Mathew finally stopped struggling. Deep hastened breaths escaped him as he glared down at the groaning form of the man who had struck his daughter and then the realization hit him. His eyes took in the sight of Katherine gazing up at him with shock spread across her face.

Being a part of a small security force assigned to ensure the safety of a large population usually meant that one would have to be violent at some point in order to keep the peace but Mathew had never beaten anyone as badly as he had beaten that man. He hadn't lost complete control. He wasn't going to kill the man but he hadn't been ready to stop when his officers had restrained him. He wanted the man to suffer and that realization combined with the look on his daughter's face sent a chill down his spine.

"Okay…I'm OK. Let me go." Mathew ordered and was relieved when his men complied. "All right…everyone…"

The plan was to continue where he had left off before his violent outburst but another outburst prevented him from doing so.

Derek, who had still been lying on the floor, had completely broken down into tears. He sat up and buried his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Katherine rushed over to the boy and wrapped him in a comforting embrace, rubbing the back of his head with her hand.

"It's OK." Katherine soothed. "It's going to be OK."

"Everyone, please…just…return to your homes." Mathew pleaded with the crowd. "There's nothing anyone can do here."

"I want my momma." Derek said weakly through his sobs.

"I know…" Katherine had no idea what to say. "I know..."

Katherine sat with Derek, never letting go of him as he cried with his face buried in her chest hidden from the world.


	3. The Investigation

**Chapter Two: The Investigation**

Lieutenant Jacob Brittle of the Vault Security Police Force grimaced at the sight of the destroyed upper eastern bloc reactor station of Vault 186. Two weeks had passed since the overload catastrophe that claimed the lives of over half of the technicians assigned to the power hub.

Jacob was a tall well-built man; about six and a half feet with short, bright red hair and a large forehead decorated with several horizontal worry-lines. Many of his colleagues often chastised the lieutenant, warning him that his constant frowning would eventually take its toll and even though they were right, no one chastised him that day.

The investigation team was busy scouring the rubble, searching for any signs of foul play, a task Jacob felt was a waste of time. Only a month ago the entire Vault was overtaken by a string of protests that had caused a level of civil unrest unseen by anyone since before the Vault's construction. With the current crisis of low power following the explosion, the security force should have been out patrolling the halls and putting down any signs of trouble before they started. Jacob wasn't against allowing those who wished to leave the ability to do so but no one had left and that was what worried him.

Overseer Suarez's speech was, in Jacob's opinion, a monumental display of persuasive skill. But it was still just a speech. Jacob was at the power hub that same day the Overseer spoke to the mass of protesters through a radio, standing between them and the reactors that the rebels intended to shut down in order to secure their freedom. Now they were silent.

Too silent; eerily silent.

It made Jacob feel uneasy. It made him suspect that while exploring the outside may have been a somewhat claustrophobia induced desire for some of the protesters; maybe some of the instigators were only interested in using the civil unrest as a way to seize power.

There were no designated leaders for the exploration movement but Jacob knew there _were_ leaders. Someone had to have instigated the talks into near terrorist action and Jacob had a sinking feeling he knew who it was. During the protest, near the front but semi-hidden behind just enough people to appear unassuming, he had seen her; Melinda Barret. Jacob knew that there were legitimate grievances and concerns brought up by the protesters but ever since he had seen her something didn't sit right with him. She was married to John Barret; the governmental chairman for the upper eastern bloc and the leader of a growing political contingent whose sole platform seemed to be the opposition of anything the Overseer implemented. The difference was that unlike most other political parties, John and Melinda's group was far more inclined to physically challenge the authority of the V.S.P.F., much to the detriment of Jacob and his men.

Jacob's frown began to increase until he was shaken from his thoughts by a passing Mister Handy janitorial robot. The metal droid harbored three squid-like appendages connected to a spherical chassis, each equipped with a unique tool or device such as a buzz saw, a gripping hook, and a flamethrower. A powerful propulsion system built into the bottom of the chassis allowed the droid to hover several feet off of the ground and three optical orbs connected to short jointed rods extended from the top.

"Pardon me sir." The robot said with a polite British accent.

Jacob gave the droid an unamused frown as it scuttled by him carrying a large chunk of scrap metal from the destroyed power station. The security lieutenant never trusted the robots and had petitioned to have them decommissioned or at the very least, stripped of their obviously dangerous weapons. Jacob didn't enjoy the idea of artificially intelligent flying robots armed with buzz saws and flamethrowers being given free reign of civilian population centers but his petitions were always shot down on the grounds that the droids served an integral part in maintaining the Vault.

"Sir!" Another voice called out to Jacob, this one was human.

Jacob instantly recognized the member of his unit; James Connolly, a fine officer in Brittle's opinion albeit a bit too enthusiastic when it came to physical force.

"What is it, Connolly?" Jacob asked.

"The investigation team has uncovered something." James replied.

"What is it?"

"I think you're gonna want to see this for yourself."

Navigating the station was frustrating. Tons of steel and stone debris still littered the floor and Jacob found himself having to catch his balance several times. More than once the lieutenant wondered how much more devastating the destruction would have been had the station not been constructed on the highest level of the Vault. Instead of just one work station being destroyed, another could have been pulled into the carnage once the ceiling gave way. Each newly ventured level of the Vault had been constructed with at least ten feet of stone between each layer but a brief glance at the destroyed ceiling left the magnitude of destruction literally up in the air until demolition and construction crews were able to begin their examinations.

Jacob followed James to the far end of the station where the once massive super computers that extended along the walls had been reduced almost entirely to scrap metal. One of the forensic scientists assigned to the investigation who was examining a charred panel from one of the destroyed computers rose to greet the lieutenant.

"Lieutenant Brittle." She said with an extended hand.

"Karen." Jacob said with a slight stutter as his memory of the woman's name came to the forefront of his mind. If the scientist had felt put off by the lieutenant's slip in memory, she didn't show it. "I'm told you have something important to show me." Jacob said after finally returning the gesture of greeting.

"Important might be too strong a word to be throwing around this early in the investigation." Karen said giving James a sideways glance. "A more accurate description of what we've found would be…interesting."

"Interesting." Jacob acknowledged with a nod. "Please explain."

"Well, as I was explaining to Officer Conolly–" Karen began.

" _Sergeant_." James interrupted.

"My apologies." Karen lied. "As I was explaining to, _Sergeant_ Connolly, the main computer that was used to monitor and regulate the station reactors is…damaged."

"Well there was an explosion." Jacob didn't attempt to hide his annoyance at having to state the obvious.

"Well, yes." Karen conceded, ignoring the sarcasm in the lieutenant's voice. "But it appears as if this computer was destroyed before the reactors exploded."

"What?" Jacob said as another frown overtook his face.

Karen led the two men over to the wall that once harbored the supercomputer. Although charred, the wall still stood with relatively minimal damage except for one specific area that harbored a large dent.

"I haven't finished my analysis yet so this is all just speculation." Karen explained while extending her arms and using her hands to animate her words. "The dent here in the wall would be the first obvious indication that a separate explosion took place before or maybe even seconds after the reactors went."

"That's quite the stretch, Karen." Jacob said with folded arms. "Maybe a piece of shrapnel from one of the reactors sliced through the computer and hit the wall."

"It's possible." Karen agreed. "But then the pieces of debris from the computer are another clue."

"This part is why I said you should see this all for yourself, sir." James added.

"If the reactor explosion destroyed this machine then the pieces would have been scattered more along the walls as the force from the blast would have imploded the computer inwards." Karen said confidently. "Now there are several pieces along the walls but they are mostly from the far ends of the computer. What sparked my curiosity, however, was how all of the pieces that are spread outward into the station that I have located appear to be from the center of the computer."

"Which just happens to be directly where that big dent is." Jacob concluded. "Shit."

"As I said, my investigation is far from finished but the more evidence I find the more inclined I am to share your sentiment concerning the situation." Karen said with foreboding dread.

"Do you think it could have been one of the protesters?" James asked with a low tone.

"That's the problem, Connolly. It's the most plausible and implausible scenario, which, is what I'm sure whomever did this was counting on." Jacob sighed.

"I don't follow." Karen stated with fresh curiosity.

"The protesters would have been the obvious suspects two months ago especially since they were right outside threatening to shut this station down." James explained. "But now it wouldn't make any sense for them to do this since the Overseer has basically said anyone can leave whenever they want. Why blow up the station when you can just walk out the door?"

"Maybe there were some of them who wanted something other than the freedom to leave." Karen suggested, considering James's words.

"Which makes this the most complicated and more importantly, most dangerous situation we've ever had to deal with since the protests started." Jacob said.

"So, what's the plan then, boss?" James asked.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out." Jacob replied.

* * *

Elsewhere, many hours later, several workstations and living quarters down from the destroyed power station, Mathew Ford was just finishing up a meal at the upper eastern bloc cafe.

The eating establishment occupied a semi-large section of the Vault that had a white tile floor decorated with red squares. The counters and tables were metal while like the rest of the Vault, the borders were a combination of stone walls with metal panels. Large red cushioned couches lined the center floor while small metal counters with metal stools beneath them extended out from the wall; some with large windows in front. Able to seat a maximum of forty residents at any given time, the café was one of the main hotspots for community functions and gatherings in the upper eastern bloc.

Mathew took another bite of his veggie burger while trying his best to ignore the constant inquisitive gaze his daughter Katherine was giving him. He knew exactly what she wanted to talk about and knew she would not stop pestering him, even in silence, until he relented.

"Doesn't he have an uncle living in one of the lower blocs? The west side?" Mathew said with a sigh after swallowing his food.

"Dad." Katherine frowned. "His name was, Karl, and he died three years ago."

"He's got to have family somewhere." Mathew said, almost pleading.

"You _know_ he doesn't." Katherine said while shaking her head.

"We don't have any room." Mathew said, switching tactics.

The security captain had been trained to handle dangerous situations and hostile negotiations but he knew he wasn't getting anywhere with his daughter. His late wife, Megan, had always teased that Katherine had inherited his iron will stubbornness and in that moment, the fact that she had been right had never been more evident. With nowhere else to send him, Mathew had temporarily taken Derek in to his home with the hopes of finding some relative the boy could stay with. Unfortunately the search had revealed that Derek's parents were the last remaining members of his lineage and with nowhere else for the boy to stay, Katherine had suggested they take the him in. Of course, much to Mathew's dismay, the request had quickly turned into a demand and now the temporary arrangement was quickly becoming permanent.

"We can find a spare bed for my room." Katherine decided.

"Most sixteen year old girls I know hate sharing their rooms with anyone, especially siblings." Mathew said, making one last feeble attempt at another solution.

"Dad, he's lost everything. We are not going to abandon him. We're practically the only family he has left." Katherine stated with finality.

"Except we're not his family." Mathew whispered.

"What was that?" Katherine asked with a glare.

"Nothing." Mathew coughed.

Katherine was about to unload another verbal chastising on her father when, much to Mathew's relief, Jacob Brittle stormed into the café with a brisk pace.

"Captain Ford." Jacob turned in the direction of the security captain after spotting him.

"Jake? What's going on?" Mathew asked while already knowing something had happened. The lieutenant only addressed him as Captain when he had something serious to say.

"Captain. We have a small situation at headquarters that requires your attention." Jacob explained.

"Don't tell me headquarters has blown up too." Mathew said sarcastically.

"No." Jacob replied with a slight cringe. "We've taken in a possible suspect."

"Suspect to what?" Mathew asked.

"The…" Jacob hesitated while giving Katherine an awkward glance. "Crime scene thinks the power hub explosion may have been intentional."

"What?" Katherine shouted after nearly choking on her food.

"Gotta go, honey." Mathew said after rising from his seat.

"But you're supposed to be on vacation. The Overseer said–" Katherine began but was cut off.

"The Overseer, my psyche evaluator, and half the force but if there is even a one percent chance that this was sabotage then that means we've just had our first terror attack in the history of the Vault." Mathew stated. "I think it would be a good idea that the security force's commanding officer be present for the investigation."

"But…!" Katherine could only manage the one word.

"Don't stay out too late." Mathew ordered after a quick kiss to his daughter's forehead. "And bring some food back home for Derek."

With that the two officers were out the door, leaving the bewildered teen with the small crowd of Vault Dwellers scattered throughout the café.

* * *

About half an hour later, Captain Mathew Ford stood outside of the V.S.P.F. interrogation room with his arms crossed, gazing through the two-way mirror at the individual suspected of sabotaging the power station. Beside him stood Lieutenant Jacob Brittle who took a similar posture with an added frown that surprisingly hid his true stoic emotions.

On the other side of the mirror, Sergeant James Connolly and Officer Dennis Hsu stood on either side of the entrance. Their arms were also crossed and their eyes glared a hole through the suspect. Minutes later the door swung open and the two outside observants entered the room. Jacob came to a halt on the right side of the large silver table while Mathew took a seat across from the suspect.

For several minutes, Mathew only stared emotionlessly at the person seated across from him then finally clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forward.

"Melinda Barret." Mathew said with a cold tone.

"Mathew Ford." Melinda replied coolly.

Another round of silence overtook the room as Mathew studied the woman in front of him. She was older than the security captain; somewhere around her mid-forties although her attractive features contradicted that fact. She had long brown hair that curved inward like some fashion model from the pre-war era, high cheekbones, plump full lips, and puffy cheeks which gave her a natural look of innocent beauty that betrayed the coldness radiating from her caramel eyes. Her skin was unusually tight for her age and the small flat mole beneath her left eye only seemed to heighten her attractiveness. She was physically fit and her body curved in all of the right places.

For a moment, Mathew found it difficult not to stare at her ample bosom like an adolescent imbecile but managed to catch himself, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"You wouldn't happen to know where your husband might be at this hour, would you?" Mathew asked suddenly.

"I'm John's wife, not his keeper." Melinda said with a half chuckle and a smirk.

"Pardon my assumption." Mathew said unapologetically. "It's just with everything that has happened in the last few months I would imagine most people would want to know where their loved ones are at all times."

"Well, Captain." Melinda said, leaning forward and clasping her hands together. "I can assure you that my husband can take care of himself."

"Where were you on, Thursday, November twentieth between the hours of three and five p.m.?" Mathew asked, matching Melinda's smirk with one of his own.

"The twentieth? That was so long ago. I'm a simple girl, Captain. I can barely remember what color panties I threw on this morning." Melinda replied with a shrug.

Mathew leaned back at Melinda's last comment and managed not to let his attention be distracted by Dennis clearing his throat.

"We'll give you a more thorough search before throwing you in a cell." Mathew calmly shot back. "We can find out together."

"Imprisoning an innocent woman on suspicions you can't prove?" Melinda asked with faux surprise.

"We both know you're not innocent."

"We both know you have no evidence." Melinda's smirk grew into an inviting smile. "Besides, Captain, I'm a politician's wife. Women married to important men tend to stay in the spotlight even when they aren't trying, which is why your men dragged me down here all fast and discreet. Have you tried actually talking to people? I'm sure someone will remember where I was that day."

Mathew held in a chuckle and continued to stare at the woman in front of him for what seemed like hours. She was right, they had no evidence and even if she or her husband were in the station the day it was destroyed there were probably a dozen people who would testify to seeing them elsewhere. Mathew needed hard evidence and he needed it fast.

"I _demand_ to see my wife." A muffled voice echoed from outside of the room.

"Shit." Jacob sighed.

"Looks like our time is up, boys." Melinda smiled. "I do hope we get to chat again soon though." She said while staring directly into Mathew's eyes.

Before the security captain could reply, however, John Barret burst into the interrogation room, nearly slamming the door into James.

James and Dennis instinctively moved to restrain the infuriated politician and found themselves struggling to hold the surprisingly strong fifty something year old back.

"Take your fucking hands off me." John growled.

"Calm yourself, chairman." Jacob shouted while moving to help restrain the gray haired politician.

Mathew made no attempt to stop or follow Melinda as she rose from her seat giving the security captain a playful wink. Mathew remained seated with the smirk still on his face as the politician's wife strode over to her husband and placed a gentle hand on his chest.

"It's ok sweetie, calm down." Melinda said soothingly.

"Did they hurt you?" John said after ripping his arms free from the security officers who had finally loosened their grip.

"They aren't that incompetent." Melinda assured him. "We were just having a friendly conversation. Come on, let's get out of here."

"You people will be hearing from me and the Overseer soon." John threatened. "Someone is going to lose their job over this."

"He's not serious…is he?" Dennis asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

"Dead serious." Jacob replied with a nod and then placed a reassuring hand on the young officer's shoulder. "But don't worry. The Overseer is the one who authorized us to bring her in."

"You ok, sir?" James asked Mathew, who was still seated at the table, the smirk still on his face.

"What are you smiling about? You heard her, we've got nothing." Jacob asked with a frown.

"We've got everything we need." Mathew replied confidently, much to the bewilderment of his men.


	4. West One

**Chapter Three: West One**

They told him the badge would give away his affiliation, so he no longer wore it. Instead, Dennis Hsu had returned home in order to acquire a disguise; his civilian Vault 186 jumpsuit. V.S.P.F. jumpsuits bore a special insignia. On each arm a golden police shield was stitched into the shoulder and in the center of that shield stitched in white were the numbers 186.

It was a meeting that the police force wanted to keep under the radar. Dennis had never been a part of any undercover operations and was reluctant in accepting this assignment. However, reason won out with the young officer after Lieutenant Brittle explained the obvious advantages of having Dennis be the point man for the operation.

 _It's your old home so you'll be familiar with the area._ The lieutenant's voice echoed inside Dennis's mind.

He was right, Dennis thought. The young twenty something year old officer grew up less than four hundred yards from the section of the wall he occupied. After graduating in the top five percent of the young initiate achievement program and moving on to complete his G.O.A.T. examination at the age of fourteen, which was a full two years before the standard age young Vault Dwellers took the test, Dennis left his home in order to take up residence in the V.S.P.F. academy.

Dennis's achievements never garnered him much community fanfare and no one from the lower west spoke of him or his classmates as prodigies, which was common treatment children in the program from the other blocs received. Since its inception, the lower west bloc was different. While the upper east bloc was the first expansion undertaken by the Vault Dwellers into the depths of the Earth and the first community constructed by the citizens of the vault, the lower west bloc was the first undertaking done right. While the V.S.P.F. was founded in the upper west bloc and its headquarters constructed in the upper east bloc, the lower west was the birth place of its first celebrated captain; David Stance.

The lower west usually wasn't the first but it was almost always the best, which encouraged its residents to nickname their piece of the vault West One. _First in Excellence; Last to Defeat_ was the community slogan that all West One parents instilled into the minds of their children and Dennis was no different. Once he received his uniforms the first thing he did even before trying them on was stitch in dark gold letters the West One slogan beneath the golden police shield.

Now, the prodigal but not prodigal son had returned to his old neighborhood and as he and his superiors had expected, barely anyone recognized him, including the special contact Dennis was supposed to meet in order to set up a rendezvous with the members of a secret sect within the upper east branch of the Vault 186 government.

A sect that Melinda Barret was supposedly affiliated with.

 _We've got everything we need._ Captain Ford's words echoed inside of Dennis's mind. Apparently the chairman's wife had given the police captain a coy signal that a future meeting would be taking place between her people and his. The West One diner was about a quarter of a mile in the opposite direction to Officer Hsu's old home and three hours after posting up between the two, the security officer found himself following a young blonde haired woman wearing a gray Pip-Boy 3000. The look and color of the device was the common design for most residents of the entire vault save for the small bright red dot painted onto the black nob that sat atop the black glove strapped around her left hand.

Like Dennis, the woman was small in stature, no taller than five and a half feet. Her face had a mild roundness to it but her cheeks were flat and her nose seemed a bit too large and slightly pointed. Dennis could tell she spent more than her fair share of time in the gym and more than once found himself taking in the attractive form of her legs and hips.

Dennis kept a modest distance of about twenty feet behind the woman and stopped frequently in order to pretend that the view of some random office or panel had briefly grabbed his attention. Compartmentalize the main objectives so the mind can focus on completing one task at a time; that was the lesson his academy instructor had drilled into the students of his class. One mission may have only a handful of objectives and most instructors taught their students to focus on one objective at a time while never losing foresight on how their actions will affect the main goal of that mission. But a West One instructor knew that each objective was composed of a multitude of tasks. Some as simple as unassumingly standing against a wall or following an operative to a contact meet. Approach every task as an individual mission in order to eliminate the maximum amount of human error.

The woman vanished with a left turn just before reaching the diner. Dennis knew where the alley led, which is why he was chosen for this mission. Melinda's contacts had refused to reveal the exact location of the meet, to which Dennis and Lieutenant Brittle immediately suggested Captain Ford turn down the offer. However, the captain had decided it would be worth the risk in order to uncover any information on the power station terror attack.

Being married to a government official had its perks. Melinda most likely had access to V.S.P.F. records and a smart terrorist with such information would know that Dennis was the only member of Captain Ford's unit who hailed from West One. So it was a race for the better hand in this game of espionage.

Dennis walked past the alley that led down into the lowest level of West One, which harbored a storage area that could fit about twelve standard apartments and entered the large diner. Childhood memories of disobeying his parents who forbid him from exploring the lower levels of the bloc briefly surfaced in his mind. Inside the West One diner; a larger but almost an identical replica of the upper east diner, Dennis's senses were hit with the thick smokey scent of freshly cooked hamburgers and hot dogs the young officer used to enjoy nearly everyday of his childhood. Nearly all of the livestock from above ground had perished due to the animals and their designated breeders failing to adapt to life below ground. For almost two generations, consumption of any animal meat was strictly forbidden in a desperate attempt to preserve them for future Vault Dwellers. Halfway into the first generation of West One, the livestock population doubled and then tripled a generation later. After that all blocs were given strict rations from the cows, chickens, and pigs. All blocs except West One. Instead of machine processed vegetables from hydroponics bays, West One citizens had always enjoyed real meat and milk. Dennis had forgotten how good the real thing smelled while being cooked and quickly took a seat at the main counter.

"One cheeseburger, no mayo and a dab of hot sauce." Dennis said with a childish grin.

About twenty minutes later, Dennis took a large bite into a very large cheeseburger that he knew was freshly cooked and not picked from precooked patties on a heat rack. The taste was exquisite and brought back warm comforting memories of home. Memories of sitting next to his father, Richard Hsu in this exact seat. The old cook who owned the diner must have passed away or retired but even if she hadn't, Dennis doubted she would have recognized the scrawny kid that would always _tear through ten burgers faster than a Tasmanian Devil_. Dennis smiled at the thought of the woman's cranky old voice.

After finishing his meal, Dennis glanced around the diner, taking note of the small number of patrons. If things really had remained frozen in time from his memories then the establishment wouldn't see any real crowds until later in the afternoon when the security officers and techies would stop in for a burger and a beer before heading home.

"You think I could get one more to go?" Dennis asked the young man behind the counter.

"What are you, a tourist?" The current owner of the diner; a tall redhead nearing his mid forties spat. "I don't know what they told you in the other blocs but here in West One we have set rules for food distribution. The number one rule being the only food that leaves the diner leaves in the customer's stomach. This isn't a ration station."

"Yeah, I know." Dennis couldn't help smiling at the statement. "But old lady Greener always let me leave with a little something extra on account of my dad being the technician assigned to this sector."

"Old lady Greener?" The cook said with widened eyes. "You're from West One?"

"Born and raised." Dennis said confidently.

"Well then!" The cook grabbed Dennis's hand with both of his own and shook it. "The name's, Max, Max Greener. Old lady Greener was my aunt. She passed away last year and my dad decided to let me run the diner."

"Sorry to hear about her passing." Dennis said with genuine empathy.

"Yeah well, she lived a full life." Max said reminiscently. "My dad said she would never admit it but she loved it when all of the kids would run in causing a ruckus and eating more than they were supposed to. I remember dad mentioning something about a deal she had struck with your dad; he kept the stove up and running and his kids' bellies stayed full."

"That sounds about right." Dennis said with a chuckle. "But I guess she must have _really_ wanted to keep that love for us a secret because I can still remember dodging my fair share of spatulas while running out the door."

Max leaned back revealing a large belly that jiggled beneath a white apron as he laughed. "That's Aunt Greenie for you. Tough love is better than no love."

"Very tough." Dennis Agreed.

"I'll tell you what." Max said with a slap on the counter. "Just this once I'll set you up real nice in honor of Aunt Greenie. But don't come back round expectin' to take advantage of a long dead deal." He gave Dennis a toothy grin before walking into the back to cook the meal. "You want any perks from me you're gonna have to strike a new bargain."

The thought crossed his mind for the briefest of moments. It wouldn't be too hard a task to get transferred to West One. A few extra patrols by the diner would more than likely garner Dennis the same privileges his father enjoyed. But as quickly as the thought came, once Max disappeared into the back the security officer's mind instantly refocused onto his next task; signaling Lieutenant Brittle and Captain Ford with the location of the meet.

Dennis quickly rose from his seat and made his way inconspicuously towards the rear of the establishment where if his memory served him, an access panel was tucked away around a corner in a small section of the diner that harbored one table with two red-cushioned metal couches. There were only five other citizens in the diner and all of them were closer to the entrance so Denis could work with relative concealment. But he would have to work fast.

The security officer quickly removed the panel and detached the cable connected to his Pip-Boy glove and slid it discreetly into the panel socket. After five minutes of rerouting data, Dennis's lips formed a smirk as the signal was routed from the West One diner to an inconspicuous access point located in a restricted area of the upper west bloc near the main power station of that sector.

As Max made his way back to the front of the diner, carrying a large bag filled with four cheeseburgers and fries Dennis had already returned to his seat.

"Here you go...uh..." Max began before realizing he never asked for his customer's name.

"Dennis."

"Right, one of old Richard's bunch. I remember now." Max said. "Nice to have pleasant memories of Aunt Greenie brought back by a local."

"Sure is." Dennis said with a deep whiff of the bag and a satisfied grin. "Smells delicious just like I remember."

"It damn well better." Max guffawed.

" _First in Excellence._ " Dennis said with an extended hand.

" _Last to Defeat._ " Max replied with a smirk and firm handshake. "Drop back by anytime, friend."

"Definitely." Dennis said before rising back to his feet.

Dennis knew the blonde woman would be waiting for him down in the lower levels. He hoped she was at least experienced enough to know that his delay in following her was to quell the thought that they were together to any passing citizens. He also hoped she wasn't experienced enough to know the second reason for the delay was for the signal he sent to his superiors.

Storage areas were usually restricted to those who weren't tasked with loading and unloading supplies and equipment. Keypads were set up beside the large gray doors that led into the lower levels and Dennis couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that the blonde woman had reset the security device after hacking her way in.

"So she's a tease then." Dennis said while smirking at the keypad.

Only the Overseer and a handful of Dennis's unit was made aware of the current operation. The assumption was that Chairman Barret most likely had contacts within the V.S.P.F. so keeping the logistics of the plan close to the chest was paramount. Forty seconds after approaching the keypad a low snap hiss escaped the gray and yellow door as it opened. Dennis ducked down into the halls of the storage level and made his way into the smallest warehouse near the back left section of the area, making sure he wasn't noticed by any passing security or storage staff members.

Dennis kept his eyes open for clues as to the whereabouts of the blonde woman and then suddenly, during his travels, the security officer noticed the number thirteen marked onto one of the walls of the storage area with the same red color as the dot on the blonde woman's Pip-Boy glove. Melinda probably had sentries set up to monitor the entrance to the storage level in order to ensure her conditions were met. Dennis was supposed to be meeting her alone and receiving information about the recent attack in exchange for...well...she wasn't very specific about what she wanted in return. Captain Ford had said that one of her agents simply explained that he and his "boy scouts" would make giving the information worth her while. She had said that she wanted the upper hand so Captain Ford wasn't allowed to meet her in the company of her secret sect because it was "unbefitting" of a security captain to lower himself to the chores of a lackey.

 _So that means you're gonna have to get us in, lackey._ Dennis could still remember the chastising grin on his Captain's face when he was assigned the mission.

Dennis had many objections to being the point man for the mission. Having to enter the lion's den unarmed was chief among those objections but it couldn't be helped. Walking through densely populated halls with an N-99 Pistol sticking out of a vault jumpsuit cargo pocket wasn't Dennis's idea of remaining inconspicuous. The small pocket knife his older sister gave him on his fourteenth birthday would have to do.

About forty minutes and one cheeseburger went by before Dennis noticed a low beeping emanating from his Pip-Boy. It was the signal he had been waiting for. He rose from behind a large storage container and began making his way towards the designated meeting area; warehouse thirteen. Upon entering the storage room, Dennis was immediately accosted by two warehouse employees who most likely weren't real employees. The two men were armed with N-99 pistols of their own and searched Dennis for any signs of weapons or communication devices, overlooking the pocket knife buried inside of his right boot.

 _Amateurs._ Dennis thought.

"Take it easy with the burgers." Dennis said sternly.

"Shut up." One of the fake employees snapped. "This way."

Dennis was led to the back of the large warehouse that was littered with non operational Mister Handy droids and storage containers of all sizes.

"So we gonna get down to business anytime soon or are you guys gonna keep up this secret agent act a bit longer?" Dennis said while scanning the area.

"Shut up." The same fake employee snapped again.

"You're pretty eager to commence with business that you know nothing about." The blonde woman stepped out from the shadows of an enormous storage container that Dennis concluded could fit one of the massive generators of a primary power hub.

"Well, after taking in the view from behind I really just wanted to get a good look at you from the front." Dennis replied coolly.

"Cute." The blonde's face lacked the playfulness of Melinda but was still kind of cute.

"Hey, easy." Dennis frowned while stumbling from the shove of one of the fake employees. "So I only need to know two things; what is it her highness wanted to convey to my boss?" Dennis asked before taking a quick glance back at his two escorts. "And, this is the really important part...I'm gonna get those burgers back, right?"

"Mrs. Barret informed us, Ford would be sending a low level peon," the blonde said with a slight scowl, "but she didn't mention you'd be some moronic funny man."

"Confident men make you nervous?" Dennis shot back with a smirk.

"Quiet, shithead." The blonde growled.

"Can I at least get a name? Doesn't have to be your real name, but if I don't get one, I'm gonna make one up." Dennis asked calmly.

"I said quiet!"

"OK. Apple bottom it is then."

"You son of a..."

"Now, now...no need for things to devolve into childish bickering quite so quickly." Melinda Barret's voice echoed from the shadows.

"Well now...I didn't think you'd actually be here." Dennis said as Melinda appeared from the shadows of the warehouse.

"And why not, Officer Hsu?" Melinda asked with that same playful smile she wore inside the interrogation room.

"Officer?" The blonde pulled a pistol from a holster she recently attached to her hip and centered the barrel on Dennis's chest. "I thought we were clear about exactly who was allowed down here for this meet."

"Control yourself, Margaret." Melinda said while pushing the pistol down with her hand.

"Don't tell him my name!" Margaret said with a glare at the other woman.

"And why not? My name is the most valuable one here and he can do nothing with it. So I think yours is safe." Melinda assured her on edge cohort.

"We gonna get on with this or what?" Dennis asked.

"Such confidence. Only a West One brat could possibly fake such control over a situation he has absolutely no control over." Melinda said with folded arms that pressed and raised her ample bosom against her chest.

"Who says I'm faking?" Dennis shot back.

A nonchalant grunt was Melinda's reply before she turned towards one of the smaller storage containers that still towered over the human occupants of the warehouse. Her fingers danced across a keypad fitted to the door of the container and after a confirming beep echoed across the area, the door opened with a loud metal whine.

Dennis was led over to the container and peeked inside when he was close enough.

Melinda signaled her henchmen to bring Dennis inside the container and activated a few dim lights that were connected to the roof of the metal box. The chairman's wife set to work on the keyboard of a large rectangular computer with a black square screen that lit up with bright green text.

"Pay attention. You might learn something." Melinda ordered.

Seconds later a video feed overtook the screen displaying a small room within a section of the vault unknown to Dennis. Inside the room were five men and three women, all of whom appeared to be in their mid to late forties and fifties. Dennis's left eye twitched as his mind recognized one of the figures in the room.

"You giving me insight into one of your husband's poker nights?" Dennis asked.

"You could say that." Melinda replied. "Poker is a game of strategy. If you manage to live through what's coming you just might learn how talented my husband is at concealing his hand until just the right moment."

"Funny. He didn't seem like the strategic type when I met him." Dennis concluded.

"Which is exactly why you and your captain would never make it in the world of politics." Melinda replied.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't."

With that Melinda raised the volume of the video feed.

 _"Have any of them realized the true purpose behind everything that has transpired?"_ One of the male figures in the video asked.

" _Of course not. Agent 27 remained undetected throughout the mission._ " Another of the men replied.

" _And what of the terminal? Has there been another communique?"_ One of the women inquired next.

" _Almost immediately after the destruction of the target. They say we are almost ready._ " The man who spoke first replied.

" _I still have my doubts about that."_ John Barret stated with folded arms.

" _Your_ doubts _have already been duly noted."_ Another woman in the group shot back.

" _So we continue to cripple ourselves for their benefit and hope they don't screw us over in the end?"_ John said with a scowl towards the woman.

" _The potential benefits are too great to ignore and certainly worth the risk."_ Another of the men chimed in.

" _We must all remain cautious in our line of thought. Accepting the possibility of total annihilation for_ any _form of personal gain we may receive is never a good plan of action."_ The last woman of the group added.

" _You West One citizens and your obsession with perfection._ " The final man in the group spoke. " _Nothing is guaranteed in this life and every avenue of a plan can not always be perfect."_

 _"Perhaps not._ " The woman from West One replied. " _But some members of this group are not giving this scheme the proper levels of caution risks of this magnitude should invoke."_

 _"While you remain cautious,_ " The first male of the group to speak stated, " _we will focus on ensuring the success of the mission. Our forefathers knew the day would come when our society would need to reenter the world above and they made it clear that to do so before obtaining a beneficial foothold with the ruling classes of the outside could bring about the destruction of us all._ "

" _We seem to be destroying ourselves without any help from the outside. If we cripple ourselves too much we will emerge with an equally crippled foothold._ " John said sternly.

" _We knew that once it was decided that our generation would be the one to reclaim the outside that not all would follow. We have to cut the fat before moving forward._ " The second woman of the group stated.

" _Then we are in agreement to begin the final phase of the mission."_ The first man of the group said with an air of finality.

All members of the group nodded in compliance just before the video cut off.

Several seconds of silence engulfed the container before anyone spoke.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dennis finally blurted out.

"From your tone I can see you finally have some understanding of the gravity of the situation." Melinda said in response.

"This is like one of those old holodisk movies. One of the spy ones." Dennis continued.

"Idiot." Margaret hissed while shaking her head.

"Things usually didn't end well for most of the people in those movies." Dennis said, ignoring Margaret.

"Which is why if you want things to end well you and your unit will..." Melinda began but was cut short by Dennis.

"What? Start taking orders from your super secret spy club? You gonna have one of us blow up the next power station? Destroy a few more families while were at it?" Dennis said with unhindered malice.

"Shut up!" One of the fake employees, the one not holding Dennis's burgers said while hitting the security officer on the back of the head with his pistol.

Dennis let out a grunt then glared back at the man. "Don't do that again."

"Calm down boys." Melinda warned. "We... _I_ am not asking you to blow up anything. I am asking that you assist me with helping my husband keep this group under control."

"Lady, this doesn't really seem like the type of group that can be controlled."

"And I thought you West One locals didn't believe in impossible missions."

"That's a common misconception." Dennis corrected. "We believe in making sure _our_ missions are not impossible. Not accepting batshit crazy missions from batshit crazy cults!"

Dennis sensed the same man behind him moving to deliver another pistol whip. The security officer lowered his body and leaned forward while spinning around and catching the man's wrist and forearm. A loud crack rang throughout the warehouse after Dennis pulled the man's face down into his knee. Dennis disarmed the wounded henchmen and at the same time spun his body around in a roundhouse kick, planting his foot into the face of the second of Melinda's cohorts with immense force.

Margaret's eyes widened with shock and anger as she found herself staring down the barrel of her associate's pistol, which was now clutched firmly in Dennis Hsu's hand.

"Don't even think about it, apple bottom." Dennis warned with a smirk.

"Mother fu..." Margaret began.

"Drop it." Dennis ordered. "You," he pointed at Melinda with his free hand, "Over there with them, now!"

Melinda slowly raised her hands as the playful smile returned to her face. "There's that West One ingenuity I've heard so much about. You just might turn out to be an even bigger asset than Captain Ford."

"Lady, when I'm done with you the only _asset_ you're going to have is gonna be the one pressing against that jumpsuit." Dennis fired back.

"I don't think so." Melinda said, never losing her playful smile.

Suddenly twelve figures began emerging from the shadows of the warehouse, crowding the entrance to the container. Ten men and two women armed with N-99 pistols and stun batons appeared behind Melinda's other cohorts.

"I think you should return Pedro's weapon to him now, before my associates have to take it from you." Melinda said sweetly.

"Hmm, no." Dennis said with a sly grin.

"Come now, Mr. Hsu. You are quite talented but one man, even a West One man, is no match against sixteen opponents." Melinda warned.

"You're right." Dennis agreed before a confirming beep from his Pip-boy warped his grin into a mischievous smile. "But who said anything about _one_ man?"

Before anyone else could react, the loud echo of a metal object rolling along the floor turned everyone's attention to the entrance of the warehouse. One of the henchmen near the rear of the group jumped away from the source of the noise while screaming a futile warning to the rest of his team.

"Down!"


	5. Shots Fired

**Chapter Four: Shots Fired**

James Connolly never wanted to be a police officer. However, after receiving the final results of his G.O.A.T. evaluation the powers that be had made the decision for him, much to his dismay. The police sergeant had always found it funny that the government would at least wait a couple of days until after what was supposed to be a celebration of life before they proceeded to decide what the path for the rest of that life would be. They framed it as a necessity, considering the situation faced by the population. If everyone wasn't directed towards the professions needed, based on their level of affinity towards those professions, then sustainability of the vault would be impossible. Among every generation there were those who would vocalize their disdain for the practice, even an exile or two over the centuries when persuasions and sometimes, threats, would fail.

But now the oppressive veil had been lifted and citizens would be free to choose what path and career they wanted. James could have quit the force at any time and almost did the day after the Overseer gave his speech. But James chose to remain with the V.S.P.F. simply because it was where he had been for the last eleven years of his life. He hadn't wasted any time in joining after he received notification of his exam results instead of attempting to find work in the field he truly desired. What would have been the point? No other establishment would have hired him without a digitized G.O.A.T. certification form. No, going down the road of resistance would have been more of a headache than he was willing to endure.

So now he found himself in the middle of a gun fight.

Things weren't all bad though. Two of Melinda's henchmen had already been put down before the others had managed to stumble behind cover after being stunned from Lt. Brittle's flashbang grenade. The problem was that there were still fourteen of them, including Chairman Barret's wife who despite her feminine appearance and playful demeanor, seemed to be handling her sidearm more efficiently than her cohorts. For a moment, James couldn't take his eyes off of her as she lined up the barrel of the N-99 pistol and pointed it directly at him. The brief flash from the gun seemed to shine brighter than the flashbang and James could feel a cold shiver vibrate throughout his body just before the projectile cut deep into the left shoulder of the man beside him, causing his bright red blood to splatter onto James's face and uniform.

The wounded man's screech was mostly inaudible to James as the rush of fear and adrenaline seemed to flood his ears more than anything else, almost inducing nausea.

"Shit!" James managed before taking cover behind a large crate.

James had never been in a firefight. Had never even used his sidearm outside of the shooting range and now he found himself damn near cowering behind a steel crate in some smelly old warehouse trying to stay alive. And he was indeed cowering even if his body didn't show it. To his comrades, if any of them took the time to notice him, James appeared to be in a standard position of cover, readying himself to engage the enemy. On the inside his chest was on fire and his heart was pounding at his ribcage.

One...two...three...

Move to stay alive.

One...two...three...

Move to stay alive.

After the next round of intense fire from the criminals, James swung himself halfway around the crate and took aim at the first assailant to fill his vision.

Line up...squeeze.

Line up...squeeze.

The kick from the N-99 pistol was light and James managed to keep the gun steady before swinging back into his position of cover without staying exposed long enough to verify if he hit his target.

Move to stay alive.

James swung out of cover for a second time.

Line up...squeeze.

A second shot fired from his gun.

He repeated the process four times then advanced forward with one of his comrades, Richard Chapman, who had taken cover on the opposite side of the makeshift hallway created by the large warehouse crates. There were so many crates. Some with large double doors and others with only one door. Some were open, displaying their contents of smaller storage crates and out of service equipment while most were closed. All of the crates were tall and in the darkness they gave the storage area the appearance of a maze with countless dead ends.

James hadn't taken ten fast paced steps towards the remaining assailants before he suddenly felt a bit light on his right hand side. A gust of wind and an unfocused image of a flailing blue arm snapped James's attention to Richard, who had taken a bullet in the chest and almost instantly fell back onto the floor. Three seconds and two wild one handed shots later, James found himself dragging Richard into one of the large crates that was thankfully open. James didn't know if he would have left his comrade right there to die on the ground had an immediate avenue of cover hadn't presented itself. He truly didn't know. No time to think about it.

Move to stay alive.

"Help me, man." Richard gurgled, groaned, and screamed all at the same time.

Move to stay alive.

"Patch me up!" Richard begged.

The blood oozed from Richard's chest, quickly morphing his blue uniform into a dark purple. The bullet had gone right through his riot vest, which was supposed to stop small arms fire.

 _Supposed to._

James reached into one of the small black pouches attached to Richard's belt and pulled out the small first aid bag given standard issue to every officer. Inside were an assortment of small items, none of which that should have been in the pouch in the first place, save the small silver syringe filled with a purplish liquid. James slammed the syringe down into Richard's chest an inch away from the wound and depressed a tiny button near the top of the syringe. Above the button, a small red needle slowly moved to the right along a white pressure gauge indicating that the fluid was being emptied. Another loud scream from Richard and then the medicine began its work. The wounded officer's bleeding and breathing began to slow.

"Fuck." Richard bellowed as even though the pain began numbing, it was still almost unbearable.

Several loud gunshots brought James's attention back to the battle at hand. He quickly grabbed one of the white pieces of fabric from Richard's bag next and shoved it into the wound.

"No time for bandages." James explained while ignoring his comrade's curse.

James approached the door to the crate slowly but with purpose. Just as he was about to position himself back into a covered shooting stance he spotted three more of his team advancing forward up the hall. The flow of bullets whizzing towards the officers had been reduced from a raging river to a slow stream and James soon found himself taking up the rear to a small group of three officers who were moving up towards Dennis's last visually confirmed position. Lieutenant Brittle was among the group.

"There," Jacob Brittle shouted, "behind the open crate! The one with the lights!"

James thought the lieutenant had spotted Dennis. Instead he was identifying Melinda Barret who had taken cover behind one of the smaller large crates that was lit up from the inside. Beside her was a short blonde woman with a pointy nose and a furious scowl on her face. The scowl and her gun suddenly turned in James's direction and before he had time to aim, the woman's gun was knocked from her hand by a bullet fired from Lt. Brittle's gun. The next projectile buried itself deep within her right thigh, effectively taking her out of the fight.

"Move up!" The lieutenant ordered.

Again James's peripheral vision warned him of an imminent danger. This time to his left but unlike most of the assailants, this one had managed to scale one of the larger crates inside of the storage area. Normally, putting yourself in such an exposed position would buy anyone a one way ticket to the afterlife, however, visibility was limited inside the near pitch black warehouse and the criminal's dark blue jumpsuit blended almost perfectly with the black void around him. But not perfect enough.

Line up...squeeze.

The assailant's head jerked back. His left hand sailed through empty space while his right hand clung unconsciously to his gun. Slowly, his head drooped forward, followed by the rest of his body until the man's weight saw him plummeting through the black void. With a loud thud, the now dead husk hit the ground right next to the wounded blonde woman who shrieked with shock.

James thought he heard a name, maybe Peter or Petro through the woman's shriek but he couldn't be sure. After two more enemies posted close to Melinda Barret fell from the smoking barrel of Captain Ford's gun, Melinda, who had briefly hid back inside of the lit crate, slowly walked out with her hands raised.

"You win, Captain." Melinda said with a lowered gaze.

"Where's my man?" Ford demanded.

A loud and furious scream from Dennis Hsu followed by a thud against the door of the large lit crate answered the captain's question. The door slammed shut as the body pressed against it slid to the floor. Dennis emerged seconds later from around the corner of the crate, clapping the dust from his hands.

"Captain." Dennis smiled. "Took you long enough."

"Traffic." Captain Ford answered with a smirk.

"I gave you a forty minute headstart!" Dennis protested.

"It's a big vault." The captain shrugged.

"James!" Dennis said with a pat on James's shoulder.

The slap helped James refocus his attention. We won. The thought was sweet, even though he was half traumatized by the events of the day. A brief glance around the warehouse revealed the floor to be littered with bodies; all of them Melinda's henchmen.

"It's over." James sighed in relief.

"Look at mister modest." Dennis chuckled.

"Modest?" James was genuinely confused.

"What did you think no one saw? You took out like six of these scumbags." Dennis beamed.

"Seven." Lieutenant Brittle corrected. "He neutralized one while pulling a wounded Corporal Chapman into one of the crates."

"I'm gonna call you deadeye from now on." Dennis said with a snicker.

Seven? James couldn't be sure. He was too scared. At first he thought it was just the same jitters most people get before fighting an enemy but no it was legitimate knee shaking fear. But there was something else that took over. Something more powerful than the fear; instinct.

James made sure he hit the firing range everyday and while most other officers didn't bother with the live fire obstacle course set up in the warehouse below the eastern bloc station, James routinely trained on the site a few times every month. Everyday he trained, he would repeat the same self taught mantras; move to stay alive and line up...squeeze. With the third he had help. His mother had constantly worried about him before she passed. She was staunchly overprotective but even she couldn't pull enough strings in order to keep him out of the police force. So instead one day when a seventeen year old James returned home in tears from the academy because the N-99 pistol; a weapon of death as James called it, scared the life out of him, she taught him something simple in order to help him concentrate.

One...two...three.

 _Don't forget to breathe._ Her soothing voice resonated in his mind.

"You've made a mistake, Captain Ford." Melinda said with her hands still up.

"Said the woman with her hands up about to be arrested." Dennis said cockily.

"We don't have much time." Melinda persisted.

"You don't, we do." Captain Ford countered with a smirk of his own.

"You people are idiots!" Margaret fumed.

"Hey be careful with apple bottom there. She's feisty." Dennis said with a wink in Margaret's direction and received a middle finger and frown from the infuriated woman as an officer helped her to her feet.

"This time when we take you in, you're staying in." Captain Ford said to Melinda.

"As much as I know you would love that Captain, there is something you should know." Melinda said with a slightly lowered voice.

"And what's that?" Captain Ford asked with the smirk still on his face.

"Something only _you_ can know." Melinda's eyes shifted from officer to officer.

"The time for secrets is over." Lieutenant Brittle said with a frown.

"If you're really going to arrest me then this is going to be the last thing I say to you." Melinda explained. "So what would be the harm if I whisper it in your ear?" Her voice remained calm, almost playful, but the smile never returned.

"Be quick about it." Captain Ford said with a brief sigh.

James watched as the chairman's wife leaned close to the Captain, almost pressing her lips against his ear and spoke silently enough so that only he could hear her. Then, much like before in the interrogation room, the Captain remained silent for what seemed like hours.

"Captain?" James finally spoke.

"Margaret knows what to do in the event of a situation like this." Melinda said with confidence and a glance at the blond woman.

Another handful of silent seconds went by. Something about the Captain's demeanor changed but James couldn't place it. Was he...uneasy? Except for when the Captain had lost his composure in the aftermath of the terror attack, James had never seen him in such a state.

"Jake." Captain Ford motioned for the Lieutenant.

"Captain." The Lieutenant answered.

"Lock them all up." The captain ordered.

"Hey, James!" Dennis smiled.

"What?" James replied, his attention pulled from Melinda who had lowered her head in defeat with an expression of what appeared to be genuine dismay.

"You ever had a West One burger before? You gotta try this man." Dennis said, holding up a brown bag with a big toothy grin.


End file.
